


Find Me in the Dark

by StarryKnight94



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Age Reversal, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Canon, Barista Katsuki Yuuri, Bickering, Businessman Victor Nikiforov, Coffee Shops, Courtesan Katsuki Yuuri, High School, Horny Victor Nikiforov, Jealous Katsuki Yuuri, Jean-Jacques Leroy Being an Asshole, M/M, Omega Verse, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Russian Mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24377878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarryKnight94/pseuds/StarryKnight94
Summary: *Previously Yuri!!! On Alternate UniverseYuuri and Victor are transported to an alternate dimension after taking the wrong turn at a sponsor's Quantum Lab. With Coffee Shop, Mafia, Courtesan and other alternate universes waiting in the wings, will they ever make it back to their own timeline in one piece? And how much will they retain of themselves when they do?
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 32
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter One

Victor was not an easy man to ignore—on or off the ice. Yuuri knew this better than most and not for lack of trying. He’d first attempted to ignore Victor in his youth, when admiring daydreams of the skating prodigy drifted into less admirable territory. Then during their first months as coach and student, locked in his bedroom clutching his vulnerabilities. Finally, in the comfort of their St. Petersburg apartment where Victor was not above pouting, whining or invading personal space for Yuuri’s attention.

Ultimately, what Victor wanted, Victor achieved. And honestly, Yuuri didn’t mind. He wasn’t fond of the current target, however.

“Amazing, Michel!” Victor’s singsong timbre echoed across the crowded show hall before dipping into excited, hurried French.

Yuuri bristled as Victor pressed a gloved hand against Michel’s shoulder. The young man preened at the attention and Yuuri knew the feeling well.

His own starry-eyed worship diminished after months of snoring, petty arguments and laundry days. Still, he couldn’t say he blamed Michel. Victor made an impressive figure with his flawlessly coifed hair and white cashmere suit (Yuuri couldn’t pronounce the brand- Bruno Cucaracha something or other). He wore a smile that straddled the line between angelic and devilish with apt precision. To top it off, Victor always knew just what to say, no matter what party he entertained. Yuuri was no stranger to playing chameleon, but he often blended into the background. Victor became the instant centerpiece on any canvas he deigned to grace with his presence.

Michel was no ogre himself- tall and slim with wavy blond hair and a chiseled jawline. He'd only recently established himself as one of France’s top particle physicists, a “remarkable feat for a man his age” according to Victor. But it didn’t stop there. Michel spent his early youth as an accomplished dancer and gymnast. And Victor thought it was all so “amazing” and so “fun” and so “surprising” that he left Yuuri to sulk at the bar while he chatted him up.

Yuuri stared down the wine glass, his first- and only- drink for the night. He knew he shouldn’t be jealous. Victor promised to stay close to him. Victor loved him. He did. Up until twenty minutes ago when smart, beautiful, silver tongued Michel stepped into the picture and pulled the wool from over his eyes. Now he’d realize how much time he’d been wasting with Yuuri. The jig was up.

He lifted the glass and took a gratuitous gulp of Riesling. Not strong enough.

“Yuuri?”

Yuuri straightened his back, trying to look more normal and less ready to fling himself into a hadron collider as Victor approached. Michel’s attention had turned to a fellow physicist, but Yuuri caught his lingering gaze on Victor.

“Enjoying yourself?” Victor asked with a wink, taking the barstool over.

It was a trick question. Victor knew Yuuri was most definitely not enjoying himself. He hadn’t wanted to come in the first place. But sponsors were important and when the International Council for Science called on you to entertain, you’d better dance monkey dance.

 _You seem to be_ , teetered at the edge of his lips. He bit it back.

 _No Yuuri_ , he scolded himself. _You’re not doing this tonight._ They were going back to the hotel, watching Bollywood movies and seeing who could best mimic the dance routines (he always won). Or maybe they’d watch a horror movie. Victor always took the opportunity to cuddle...

“Yuuri?” The smile on Victor’s lips staggered.

“Not really,” he admitted with an apologetic grin. His eyes darted back to Michel out in the crowd, the man's attention now rapt on the event’s host and council president. “You ready to go?”

“Desperately,” Victor gave a low sigh, letting the practiced mask slip from his countenance for a short moment. Yuuri’s grin widened.

“Just let me exchange info with Michel first.”

The grin twisted in some mutation between a grimace and a sneer. Victor noticed.

“What’s wrong?” 

Yuuri knocked back the remaining wine. Don’t say it. _Don’t say it._ “Okay then…”

Victor nodded, still eying him like a grenade that could sound off at any moment as he eased up from the stool.

“What for?” The words were out of his mouth before he could catch them.

“Hm?”

“Why?” he asked, not muttered or soft this time. Sharp as a blade.

Victor gazed at him for a while, the cogs clicking and turning. A triumphant glow flickered in his eyes, his lips curving up as he tapped one finger against them. “Is my Yuuri jealous?” he asked with far too much glee. Victor just loved this sort of thing.

Yuuri didn’t get jealous often. He really didn’t. Or rather, he didn’t show it often. How could he when Victor was such a habitual flirt? It would be exhausting throwing a fit whenever he batted his eyes at the next rando. But there was something different about Michel. The way Victor talked and laughed so freely with him. It wasn’t his usual cold, impartial teasing. It felt more personable. More like the side of himself he reserved for Yuuri.

“Don’t assume I’m jealous,” he snapped. Victor flashed a smile at the now curious bartender, a lithe blonde woman with a pixie cut, to put her at ease.

Yuuri drew in a deep breath, composing himself. He put on his best nonchalant mask, his hand betraying him as it spun the remaining drops of wine about the glass. “I was just curious.” He adjusted his glasses as he peered at Victor. “You seemed really engaged.”

“He’s very engaging,” Victor grinned and then laughed into Yuuri’s souring expression.

“Don’t look so worried, Yuuri. He’s the president’s favorite.” He found the hand that wasn’t manhandling the wine glass and squeezed. “One of us had to talk to the sponsors. You’ve been over here babysitting that drink all night.”

Yuuri squirmed in his seat, but he couldn’t help the relief from easing in over his doubts. He finally let the wine glass clatter to the bar top. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, love,” Victor massaged at his leg, fingers slow and nimble, the scent of his cologne sweet and heady. Yuuri suddenly very much wanted to continue this conversation at home. 

“I deal with them and you take care of me later." Victor's lips brushed against his ear. "That’s the deal, right?”

“Right,” Yuuri’s skin flushed. Last time Victor spent the night singlehandedly dazzling their sponsors, Yuuri followed up with his mother's katsudon recipe, a massage and the best fellatio of Victor’s life (or so he claimed).

“Victor!” The smooth, lilting tone rose above the background chatter. Yuuri looked up to see Michel sauntering toward them in his fitted navy suit, eyes fixed on him. “You never introduced me to your student!”

Yuuri stood, donning his own practiced smile. “Katsuki Yuuri.” He bowed before meeting his eyes again. “Victor’s fiancée.”

He usually tagged his name with ‘I represent Japan in figure skating’ or if he was feeling cocky ‘Gold and Silver Medalist’ or even just ‘Katsuki Yuuri’ when he didn’t want the fuss. But it seemed pertinent that he share this title, above all else, with Michel. After all, Victor sure as hell hadn’t told him.

Michel blinked wide hazel eyes at him. “Well, if that’s how we’re doing introductions…” he laughed as though they shared a secret joke before flourishing to himself. “Victor’s ex-boyfriend!”

Yuuri’s world skewed and toppled from its axis. Michel wasn’t supposed to say that. What kind of sick joke…? Was it meant to be? Should he laugh?

He tried, a miserable little sound, before turning to see if Victor was laughing too.

Victor was not laughing. Rather he smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes- stiff and strained.

“We dated for a week.” Victor finally spoke. “Hardly ex-boyfriends.”

Yuuri felt he was floating now, numbness prickling over him. The black $4000 suit Victor made him wear scratched against his goosebumps. So much for Gucci.

“Best week of my life!” Michel's laugh was entirely too sensual for Yuuri’s liking. “You’re a lucky man eh, Yuuri?”

Yuuri felt a vague touch at his arm.

“Yuuri?” It sounded more concerned this time.

“Huh?” Yuuri blinked, Michel shifting back into focus. Tall, smart, beautiful Michel who had most definitely dated his fiancee. Perhaps more. “I mean…” All will to be subtle cascaded into the abyss. “You two dated?” When? Where? Was there kissing? Sweet nothings? Unconquerable fellatio?

“Just for a bit,” Michel said, his tone wanting. “I did a stint in Russia for college and practiced at the ballet house there.” He shot Victor a look. “Fun week that was.”

The numbness sank deep into Yuuri, into his heart, his stomach, his mitochondria…

“You wanted to trade numbers?” Victor already had his phone out, expression somber as he maneuvered to his contacts.

“Yeah, we have to catch up!” Michel’s tone drifted into the background while Yuuri came to terms with his inevitable fate.

It was the beginning of the end. They’d had a good run- him and Victor. Almost two years now and, honestly, he couldn't believe they’d lasted this long. Victor could do so much better… Yuuri was attractive, sure, but he wasn’t drop dead gorgeous. Off the ice, he was all stammered words and flubbed connections. He’d thought Burberry was an ice cream flavor. He wasn’t confident or genius or striking enough. Not for Victor.

He realized his eyes were stinging and faced downward. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

“Yuuri…”

Victor’s calls fell deaf on his ears as he strolled through the massive hall, hurried footsteps clapping on the marble floors. He passed the crowds, the refreshment tables (they were tempting), the expanse of the room itself and continued into a dark corridor.

 _You’re overreacting,_ a small and perhaps more logical part of him broke through the haze. Victor didn’t love Michel. Michel held Victor’s attention for a week. Yuuri, for almost two years. Victor loved him. Victor was just being nice.

The more intense part of him, the one whipping and wailing like a tempest, told the other part to shut up. That it was naïve and stupid. That its naivety would hurt them both in the end.

“Yuuri!” A hand caught his wrist as maneuvered around a red roped stanchion to ascend a metal staircase. He snatched his arm back at the touch.

“I just need to go somewhere to think.”

Victor released a guttural sigh, soft blue eyes fatigued and Yuuri couldn’t help the guilt from creeping up.

“You’re shutting me out again.”

“I’ll be back.” Yuuri continued up the staircase toward the lulling sound of wind shifting in the distance. Was it storming out?

“Yuuri!”

“You didn’t tell me you had dated,” he said, forcing his glasses so far up the bridge of his nose that the plastic dented his skin. “You left that part out.”

He reached the landing, Victor fast on his tail, and made a sharp turn down a dimly lit hall. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead and a sickly sanitary scent filled his nostrils. The sound of rushing wind pressed loudly on his ears and it comforted him somehow, drowning out his thoughts.

“I was going to tell you when you calmed down,” Victor said. “And besides, it wasn’t important.”

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe they could salvage the night. His gaze dropped to Victor's gloved hands.

“You’re not wearing your ring.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “Yuuri these gloves are Armani. I’ve been wanting an excuse to wear them for weeks.”

That was true. He’d watched Victor gush over the fine leather, practically salivating over his laptop during an online shopping binge. “You could have worn it under.”

Victor grimaced. “That would look terrible.” He reached into the front pocket of his suit and produced a familiar golden band, holding it before Yuuri’s eyes. “Happy?”

Part of Yuuri wanted to give in and abandon whatever wretched thoughts had led them to the vacant, bleach-soaked hallway of a physics lab. The other couldn’t shake the feeling that he would just be prolonging the inevitable.

“Maybe we should...” he started, finally pausing at the end of the hall before wide, metal double doors. “If you want, we can…”

Victor’s eyes narrowed, the soft blue freezing over. “We can what?”

Yuuri swallowed hard. It wasn’t the first time he’d offered—though he hadn’t in a long time now. An escape. A break. Just long enough for Victor to realize that maybe he wants—deserves— something more.

Victor crossed his arms and leaned against the door’s metal bar, eyes settling on the marble. “I thought we were pass this.” He turned tired eyes on him. “How many times are you going to ask me to prove my love for you?”

Yuuri suddenly felt small in the way he did when he flubbed a jump he’d mastered eons ago. His chest ached, the chill of the hall more noticeable. “I… you…”

Everything he wanted to say seemed to beg the question of Victor’s love. Not that it mattered at the end of the day. There was nothing that Victor could say and Victor could say everything. The true decider was the unrelenting storm in Yuuri’s head. He gritted his teeth. They’d been doing so well and he brought them back to this. 

He wanted to rewind the night. Find the moment before he wrecked everything so he could whisk Victor into a limo, get him to the hotel and make him forget he ever exchanged numbers with Michel in the first place. Where was that energy twenty minutes ago? Why had he let the worst parts of him take control?

Yuuri reached for him. “Victor, I’m-”

Victor's elbow hit the push mechanism on the door and he gave a suprised cry as he stumbled through. Yuuri followed, ignoring the loud rumbling on his ears to help steady him on his feet.

"You alright?"

Victor pulled his arms away. “I’m fine. I just…” His eyes locked on something behind Yuuri and the words iced on his lips.

Yuuri followed his gaze to the rest of the room. Before them cranked and roared an indecipherable contraption, expanding from wall to wall of the large chamber. The room was an endless chasm, stretching so far back that the machinery, all stainless metal and tubing, vanished into the distance. The familiar sound of wind howled from the center of the apparatus, dark and void save for an electric spark every ten seconds or so.

“Wow…” Victor breathed, stepping forward and peering into the void.

Yuuri turned back to the door, finally noticing the red tape and copious ‘DO NOT ENTER’ signs he’d missed in his anxiety muddled fog. “Victor…” His tongue felt dry and heavy. “We should go.”

“What do you think it is?” Victor did the opposite, moving toward the roaring contraption. Yuuri noticed the silvered ends of his hair rising on end.

“Come back!” He was yelling now. They both were and had been for the past five minutes. The rumbling of the machine thundered, angry and aggressive.

Victor just stared up at the thing, transfixed, his hair and suit whipping around him. The space between the sparks at the center decreased. Every five seconds… every four seconds… Yuuri cursed to himself, rushing forward through the airstream to seize Victor by the arm.

“Let’s go—hey!” His glasses angled on his nose and then fell away, stolen by the relentless storm around them. The machine suctioned the frames forward where they collided with the metal and vanished into the dark, crackling space at the center.

Yuuri froze, wide eyed, fingers digging into Victor’s arms. “My glasses…”

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” Victor finally came to his senses, easing them backward toward the door. Only it was difficult to move in any direction but one. As with the glasses, the machine seemed intent on sucking up the entire room. The air hummed with electricity, the atmosphere itself bending and rippling. An alarm sounded somewhere in the distance.

“Victor,” Yuuri meshed against him, fingers pressing into his shoulders. It was the only thing he could think to do. “What’s happening?”

Victor shook his head, burying himself in the crook of Yuuri’s neck. “Just stay close to me. Don’t let go.”

The roaring screamed in their ears and the room went dark, the only light a continuous stream of electric energy at the heart of the machine. It was the last thing he remembered.

* * *

Yuuri blinked, the world returning to focus. Well, not quite. His vision blurred the way it did when he first opened his eyes in the morning. He usually rolled over and checked his phone. But this wasn’t his bedroom.

“Yuuuuri!” Phichit teased from behind. “You dropped your glasses!”

“Huh?” He stared down at an amorphous triangle of dark blue on the brown, tessellated floor. Before he could make a move, his friend reached down and plucked them up. 

“You feeling alright?” Phichit frowned as he slid the frames onto his face. “Looks like you zoned out for a minute there.”

Yuuri blinked, the room around him finally beginning to make sense. The metallic counters… the rich, heavy scent of coffee beans… the bell’s ding as new customers entered the shop from the bright, sun-tinged sidewalk area. He was at work at Celestino’s coffee shop. Of course.

“Sorry,” he scratched at his bangs before adjusting the black apron that read ‘Celestino’s Celestial Coffee Corner’. “Don’t know what’s wrong with me today…”

“You picked a weird day to space out, Yuuri,” Phichit pushed an iPad into his hands. “You know how Saturdays are!” He started toward the cash wrap. “Can you take care of those orders in the queue?”

Yuuri winced when the ten orders popped up on the iPad. The expectant faces peering at him from the front of the counter did nothing to assuage his fears. “R—right!”

He got to work at the back counter, mixing and brewing so fast he nearly spilled iced matcha down the cabinets. But no matter how much he focused on the work, he couldn’t help feeling he’d forgotten something important. Very important. Life alteringly important. He paused over the frother, captivated by the way the silver wand whirled the milk and cream into a storm.

“Yuuri!” A gruff voice knocked him out of his stupor and his shoulders crowded around his ears, the latte spilling onto his hand. He hissed. “Celestino!”

“What’s with you today?!” The manager and owner of the 4 Cs demanded, arms folded over his apron. “Do you need me to take over?”

“No!” Yuuri shook his head, eyes darting to the crowd they’d attracted. How embarrassing… “I just-”

“Sir?” He heard Phichit asking a customer. “Are you alright?”

He glanced over Celestino’s shoulder and a peculiar horror seized him at the sight of the man staring back. He knew him. He knew him and something was wrong.

“Yuuri!” Celestino’s voice blended into the backdrop.

Something was wrong. He balled his fingers into his apron.

“Sir?” Phichit flinched as the silver haired customer leaned over the counter, eyes boring straight into Yuuri’s soul.

“Yuuri?!”


	2. Barista Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yurio…” Victor observed him, fingers curling around his chin. Maybe calling attention to the absurdity of the dream work? “You’re not a writer.”
> 
> If the circumstances had been different, Yuri’s face would be comical, red cheeks puffing up and nostrils flaring. 
> 
> “What did you just say?” he growled. “And what did you call me?!”
> 
> “And you three don’t work at a coffee shop,” he told Phichit, Celestino and Yuuri with the utmost certainty and they stared back at him, dumbfounded. This was kind of a fun game! He should lucid dream more often.
> 
> A.K.A Victor is trapped in a coffee shop AU and can't for the life of him figure out how to escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much everyone for your sweet comments and everyone who gave kudos as well! I am excited to see what happens next too. I'm not using much of an outline for this so I'll be as surprised at what comes out of my fingertips as you are! Haha! Thank you again!

Victor’s gaze lingered on the narrow cracks in the sidewalk while Yuri Plisetsky ranted on about the cocky new guy at his writing workshop. The whistling autumn breeze and children's laughter did little to soften the tirade. Victor pressed his fingers to his forehead. He’d forgotten something important.

“This is it, right?” Yuri took a break from the nonstop string of swear words— with the occasional esoteric modifier thrown in for his writer’s ego— to nod toward a quaint shop front, white with large bow windows lined with colorful lily beds. Celestino’s Celestial Coffee Corner. “The one you wanted to check out?”

The distant memory of the coffee shop’s ad on Twitter popped into Victor’s head and he half nodded. “Mhm.”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed into green slits, the hood of his black sweatshirt casting a shadow over them. “What’s with you? You’ve been acting weird since we got off the train.”

“Tired. Come on.” Victor reached to open the shop door. It gave a little ding and the seductive aroma of mocha and cinnamon hit his senses. “You wanted me to help workshop your story, right?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Per usual, Yuri maintained his reluctance to admit he needed help- even the help of Pulitzer prize winning author Victor Nikiforov. “Just don’t bullshit me, old man. This has to be perfect.”

An amused grin slipped over Victor’s mouth as he unbuttoned his grey peacoat. “Whether it’s perfect or not is up to-”

Him. The rest of the room evaporated, leaving only the dark-haired man behind the counter. Barista Boy fixed agitated doe eyes on him in turn, tight—but toned—shoulders tensing. Very cute, but 'cute' didn't explain Victor's strong reaction to him. Was this the fabled ‘love at first sight’ that authors waxed poetic about in those Harlequin novels he avoided like a pair of perfectly good socks under sandals?

But no. This wasn’t instant admiration. He knew him. Everything about him felt familiar. Intimate even. And everything else now seemed so clearly off.

Barista Boy blinked at him and something clicked.

“Yuuri!” he started forward, hands jamming against the counter.

“WHAT?!” Yuri hissed at him, for the third or fourth time if his tone indicated anything. When Victor didn’t respond, the blond turned to a very concerned cashier and groaned. “He’s getting senile in his old age. I’ll place the order.”

Victor was too busy squinting at his latest obsession’s nametag to register the assault on his ego. Yuuri! How had he known?! They must have met somewhere… One of his workshops? A fan signing? A nightclub? But why would such an inconsequential meeting feel this important? _Think, Victor_ , he told himself. _Think, think think._

He snapped his fingers. His phone! He had hundreds of contacts. Yuuri was bound to be among them! He reached into his pocket, expecting cool glass. Frowning, he pulled another object from his pocket, small and round. The epiphany hit him like a truck, reality crashing over him all at once, the facade evaporating.

He glanced around in quick, jerky movements, waiting for the scene to ripple out of existence, for fluffy sheets, Makkachin’s fur and a dozing Yuuri— sans apron— to shift into focus.

The coffee shop remained with all its sights and smells, an angry Yuri and strange glances from customers and employees alike. Tension knotted his gut. His dreams usually ended the moment he saw them for what they were.

“You promised you’d pay.” Yuri glared at him. “Don’t start acting like a lunatic to get out of it…”

“Yurio…” Victor observed him, fingers curling around his chin. Calling attention to the absurdity of the dream might work. “You’re not a writer.”

If the circumstances had been different, Yuri’s face would be comical, red cheeks puffing up and nostrils flaring.

“What did you say?” he growled. “And what did you call me?!”

“And you three don’t work at a coffee shop,” he told Phichit, Celestino and Yuuri with the utmost certainty. They stared back at him, dumbfounded, and a thrill rushed through him. This was kind of a fun game! He should lucid dream more often.

The air rippled in waves, raising his hairs on end, and he stumbled back. 

It was fine. This was a good sign. If he kept calling out the dream’s idiosyncrasies, he would wake up eventually. He had to.

“Victor…” Yuuri finally spoke from over the counter, walking around Celestino. “It’s Victor Nikiforov, right?” He muffled a disbelieving laugh into his fist. “Sorry, I don’t know how I know your name!”

“Well, you should.” Victor put on a faux pout to cover up the strange inner glee that bubbled inside. He couldn’t wait to tell real Yuuri about this one. “We’re engaged.”

Yuuri blinked at him, mouth agape, pupils dilating. It was about as cute as Victor expected. And twice as realistic. The attention to detail in this dream almost unnerved him.

He nodded to the golden band on Yuuri’s finger. Funny that it, of all things, should appear here.

Yuuri looked down and froze upon seeing the ring, his entire body rigid, an invisible current licking up his spine.

“Shit.”

“Hey!” Yuri burrowed between them. “Why are you taking so long to make our drinks?! Isn’t this your fucking job?!”

Yuuri only squinted at Yuri as though he were monster-green and one-eyed. “Yurio?”

“WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP CALLING ME THAT?!”

“Victor!” Yuuri bolted out from behind the counter, ignoring Celestino and Phichit’s protests and the daggered eyes of a dozen caffeine addicts. “This is wrong! We shouldn’t be here!”

“Give us a moment!” Victor told their many onlookers as he escorted a frantic Yuuri outside to the sidewalk area.

“What is this place?!” Yuuri hissed. “And why do I remember-”

“Yuuri relax.” He sighed. Leave it to Yuuri to maintain his anxiety even in a dream. Though he supposed this was his mind’s version of Yuuri. “It’s just a dream.”

 _My dream_ , he left out. Barista Boy would disappear once he woke up. Which was kind of a shame. Yuuri made an attractive barista. His eyes lingered on the apron’s fit over Yuuri’s muscled chest, the tie dangling around his hips

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Victor put on his best come-hither smile. “Or we could go to the back…” He hadn't checked ‘stockroom of a retail establishment’ off his bucket list and he doubted real life Yuuri would be down for it. At least not sober.

“You know how to get out of here?!” Yuuri gazed up at him as though he possessed the secret of life. He started to undo the back of his apron and Victor caught him by the wrist.

“Don’t take that off.”

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Victor leaned into him, lips brushing against the pen tucked behind his ear. “I have a place like six blocks from here…”

Yuuri’s brow twisted in a confused knot. He blinked twice before the confusion merged into disbelief. “Are you thinking about sex?!”

Victor pouted. “Would that be so bad?”

“Victor, there’s no time for that!” he seized him by the collar of his coat. “We have to get back! Something went wrong at the lab!”

“The lab?” Yuuri wasn’t making any sense.

“You don’t remember?” Yuuri buried his head in his hands, eyes wild. “Oh God… is this a coma? Am I in a coma?!”

Victor stared after him, helpless as Yuuri commenced to hyperventilate in the middle of the walkway. Concerned mothers ushered their children away.

This was no longer sexy. He had to think… The lab. They’d received an invite to a sponsor’s Quantum Lab event. Memories of getting dressed flooded back to him and he realized the event came to pass. Yuuri sat at the bar being antisocial all night, he’d caught up with an old associate, and… His features dropped, a familiar chill seeping into him. One he hadn’t felt in some time now.

“You wanted to break up.”

His words cured the hyperventilation. Yuuri looked at him, all panic and frustration melting from his features. It was irritating how, even while wallowing in guilt, he still managed to look like a kicked puppy. Victor steeled his eyes.

“I—I didn’t,” Yuuri reached out with hesitant hands. “I just thought maybe you did!”

“You assumed I did.” Yuuri always assumed. “I never gave you any indication-”

“You don’t tell me when you’re upset,” Yuuri cut in. “If you ended up unhappy with me, I didn’t want you to feel obligated-”

“That's bullshit, Yuuri.” The breeze dropped to a chill, the guileless laughter stifled, the wind ceasing to whistle. Yuuri silenced, his color draining. Victor scolded himself mentally. He rarely swore out of anger. Especially at Yuuri. It had happened maybe three times in the months they’d been together. Still, ‘bullshit’ suited perfectly. “You’re as selfish as ever. You didn’t say it for me. You said it to protect yourself.”

Yuuri’s gaze found the cement, teeth threatening to draw blood from his bottom lip. He looked like he might cry.

Victor wasn’t an airheaded idiot, contrary to popular belief. He’d figured out the true reason behind Yuuri’s hot and cold attitude toward him easily. It didn’t make it sting any less each time Yuuri offered to abandon him to save himself a hypothetical heartbreak.

“You don’t trust me.”

Yuuri seemed about to crumble, but they both knew he consisted of sturdier material than that. He finally cleared his throat and smoothed his hair back, adjusting his glasses in the process. His gaze found Victor again, reluctant and guarded.

“What about the part where we got zapped by a particle accelerator?” he asked. “Do you remember that part?”

“It wasn’t a particle accelerator,” Victor said just to be a contrary asshole.

“Is that what Michel told you?”

Victor found himself missing oblivious Barista Boy.

“Yes actually.” He smiled and cocked his head to the side. “He mentioned a secret project he was heading. A particle transporter. Something can start here…” He motioned to his right. “… and end up here.” And then to his left. “Groundbreaking work. He was just smoothing out the kinks."

Yuuri’s jaw set. “The kinks?”

“Disappearances— particles, lab rodents…” Victor tapped at his lip. “I think we figured out where they went.”

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s head poked out from around the coffee shop door, eyes darting between him and Victor. “Ciao-Ciao’s head is about to explode! Can you argue with your drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend you didn’t tell me about later?”

“Let’s go to Starbucks, Victor!” Yuri nearly slammed into Phichit as he stomped out onto the sidewalk. “So, this is why you wanted to meet here?” He gave Yuuri the once over. “I thought you had better taste than that.”

“So Yurio hates my guts here too,” Yuuri snorted as he stared back at the blond. “Not surprising.”

“STOP CALLING ME YURIO!”

Victor pressed his fingers to his temples. How were they supposed to get back? “We could find the machine again! In this timeline.”

“What if it doesn’t exist in this timeline?” Yuuri hooked his fingers around his elbows.

“We have to try.” He turned to the crowd they’d amassed with a glowing smile. “As of today, I’m quitting writing and moving to France!” He tugged Yuuri to his side. “You’re quitting too, right, Yuuri?!”

Yuri blanched, his mouth falling open in an unspoken swear.

“QUITTING?!” Celestino boomed. A familiar tension licked across the air, the trees undulating as if caught in a sudden heatwave. Yuuri squirmed against him and he frowned, realizing he hadn’t yet replied.

“Yuuri?” He turned to see him toying with a rogue fabric in his apron, eyes roving the ground. “Yuuri?!”

“I hate to quit.”

Victor blinked at him in disbelief. “You're guilty over quitting a job you started thirty minutes ago?”

“It’s weird.” Yuuri scratched at his head. “I know it’s not real, but I still have all these memories… It feels like giving up on something.”

The words whetted into a blade and twisted into Victor deep. “Oh, I see…” he said, still wearing the smile for their audience.

“Victor…” Yuuri groaned, realizing his misstep too late.

“Like you gave up on me at the lab…”

“Fine!” Yuuri grunted, wrenching his arm away to face Celestino and Phichit head on. “Celestino-I’m-really-sorry-but-I-have-to-quit!” He dipped so low into the bow he almost stumbled before spinning on his heel and making a mad dash down the sidewalk.

Victor followed quick on his heels, keeping his eyes locked on Yuuri’s back as the world contorted. Everything undulated now- the trees, the buildings, Yuri Plisetsky’s form as it raced behind him, insulting him more eloquently than the Plisetsky he knew ever had. Thank goodness he wasn’t actually a writer…

“YUURI WAIT!” Phichit wailed. “YOU NEVER INTRODUCED ME TO YOUR BOYFRIEND!”

“It’s happening again…” Yuuri’s voice wavered as the air crackled around them, tussling clothing hems and hair strands. He grasped onto the sleeves of Victor’s peacoat as the sun bent and collapsed on itself. The foliage, concrete and peoples’ outlines melted away and blending into one swirl of murky color.

“Don’t let g-!”

* * *

Victor stumbled over the plush, crimson carpet of the finest brothel the East had to offer, the scent of fresh flowers and perfume dizzying him.

“Whoa!” Chris caught him by the wrist before he could face plant. “No accidents, my friend. Not when you’re about to have your life changed.”

Victor took in his surroundings as Chris helped pull him up, the suited men pacing about, clothing loose and damp with sweat. That’s right. They were on business here. Christophe wanted to cool off by frequenting his favorite establishment in the area.

Chris gave a deep, amorous sigh. “Eros is truly exquisite.”

The name was familiar. “Eros…”

“Well, if it isn’t the great Victor Nikiforov.” There was a tap on his shoulder. “Christophe has regaled me with the most stimulating tales of your adventures together.”

He turned to see a stunning woman with sleek dark hair, an enigmatic smile and sweeping scarlet robes. Lady Minako, the house madame. Supposedly, she’d been in the business for decades, but she didn’t look a day over 25.

“Lady Minako,” he bowed. “I hope Chris hasn’t bored you too much.”

“Oh, he’s never boring,” she purred. Something shiny glinted in the folds of her fingers, but she leaned in to catch his eye before he could get a better glimpse.

“You look like you have a secret.” She winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Minako sauntered away and he peered at the glittering object as her fist closed over it. The truth took all of three seconds to hit him, bright and blazing hot.

“Whoa! Victor!” Chris took hold of his shoulders as he stumbled against the wall. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this rattled, mon cher…”

Victor leaned forward, trying to catch his bearings. Hundreds of images surged through his mind, but one remained etched over the rest. “Eros.” He snapped around to face Chris. “Where is he?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Once again, if you have any suggestions for AUs please let me know and I will consider them!


	3. Courtesan Eros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor wakes up as a wealthy entrepreneur in need of a respite from the daily pressures of business. Yuuri wakes up as Eros, the most coveted- and expensive- courtesan in the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got hot and heavy fast. It's an E rating from here on out, folks!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments!

Yuuri’s own reflection jarred him as he smoothed the dark hair away from his features, starting at the roots and ending where it fell at the small of his back . 

_I miss my short hair_ , he mused, placing the comb  neatly beside the rest of his cosmetics on the rich mahogany vanity.

He’d never had short hair.

His fingers paused over his favorite hairpin, a gleaming obsidian piece with sapphire-colored Sakura blooms, and his eyes narrowed into his mirror self as though he’d tell him a secret if he stared long enough .

“Yuuri!”

He snapped around to find the madame bursting into his chambers, as she did, already making a beeline for him.

“He’s here!” she squealed, hands already on him, adjusting his yukata and brushing his hair.

“Nikiforov?” he asked, and the name lapsed his heartbeat. He supposed that was a good sign.  His lips curved up in a smirk as Minako dipped a small brush in black paint and made quick, fluid strokes along the contour of his lashes . “Is he as attractive as they say?”

“More.” Minako winked. “No beard burn and beer guts for you tonight.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes, but his features brightened. It would be a nice change not having to lie for once about how handsome and strong his clients appeared.  Yuuri enjoyed the shocked expressions and confidence the falsehoods inspired, but he couldn’t deny the appeal of a  truly enticing client . Especially one with the funds to back it up…

Minako heaved a great sigh. “I can’t believe you got to sleep with Giacometti and I didn’t…”

“It can’t  be helped .” Yuuri shrugged with feigned innocence. “He requested me.”

Minako tensed, ego nicked, but her fondness won over in the end, breezing out into her smile, warm and summery. “My little Yuuri’s  really all grown up, isn’t he?”

Yuuri couldn’t help but flush pink—an amazing feat. It wasn’t easy to make a courtesan do. But Minako had always been special.

She’d taken him in when no one else would, treated him as her own son and given him the choice in the end to join the brothel or work in management . Of course he’d wanted to join- to be as timeless, glowing and coveted as she before him. How could he have chosen anything else?

Within a few years, he’d achieved his goal.  He became Eros: the most sought after courtesan in the city- known for a subtle grace and beauty outside of closed doors and a smoldering passion within .

“Thanks, Minako,” he whispered, pressing her hand to his cheek before she could pull it away.

It was her turn to flush. “For…” She trailed off and he opened his eyes, realizing something was wrong.

“Minako?”

“What’s this?!” She seized him by the wrist and he winced.

“What-”

Before he could even glimpse the offending object, she’d plucked it from his finger.

“What did I tell you about accepting gifts from clients?!”

He blinked, dumbfounded. His hands were bare the last time he checked. “I… I didn’t-”

“Yuuri, men are crazy.” She bit her lip. “Not you. But most of them! If you accept gifts, they’ll start to think they actually own you!”

“I never-”

“I taught you better than that.”  She cradled his cheeks, thumbs pressing against his glossed lips before he could protest further . “Now listen. Nikiforov dropped a ring. He’s a married man and he seems a little out of it.” She rolled her eyes. “You know how first-time adulterers get.”

“So make him forget his wife.” Yuuri shrugged. He’d done it countless times before. “Got it.”

She grinned. “That’s my Eros!”

A knock came at the door and he adjusted his yukata robes, glittering waves of blue and silver cascading down his form . He crossed the tatami floors to take his place beside the sitting area, lit only by a few crimson and gold lanterns. They’d begin the night here, but it wouldn’t last long. He glanced back, peeking through the gaps in the lattice framed panels into the bedroom.

“Please come in!” Minako called and the door  nearly split from its hinges.  Yuuri noted that Nikiforov must have been an impatient man until he caught sight of him and his thoughts vanished into the spicy musk of essential oils on the air .

Victor was handsome— more than that. Yuuri had watched many men in extravagant suits linger gaping in that threshold. None of them managed to strip his mind bare. He struggled for his thoughts.

“Mon Cher!” Chris swooped into the room, green eyes glinting. He took Yuuri’s wrist as though he held a delicate rose and planted a kiss at the back of his hand. “You are stunning as always.”

“Will you be paying for Eros’s services tonight as well, Mr. Giacometti?” Minako was quick to arrest him, cradling him by the arm and guiding him toward the door. “ I believe it’s Master Nikiforov’s night.”

“Last time I was Master Giacometti,” Chris pouted, but he let himself  be detained . “Are your charms so fickle here, Madame Okukawa?”

“We’ll always have the utmost charm and respect for those who support us,” Minako laughed, the lilt sharp as a razor. “Have I introduced you to Terra Incognita? He is quite charming!”

Minako prattled on, giving Victor the usual instructions on drink requests and laundry management . Neither of the room’s remaining occupants seemed to be listening. Yuuri  barely noticed when Chris kissed his hand. It wasn’t like him…

_Get it together_ , Yuuri , he told himself, catching Minako’s expression through the narrowing crack in the door .

_You better cinch this_ , it said. Nikiforov was a high rolling client and the onus fell on Yuuri to ensure his future business.

The paneled door finally slid close with a soft thud, Minako and Chris’s banter vanishing into a murmur.

Victor turned to check the door and Yuuri felt… nervous. A child with a toy sword trembling before a samurai. He hadn’t known this feeling since the early days when he’d stumble on his flirtations or trip on his robes. Was it because of Victor’s striking ocean eyes and the cupid’s bow on his lip? Because of his deep pockets and the pressure to infiltrate them? He wished he’d indulged in a little liquid courage before they’d begun.

“Victor Nikiforov  really is as impressive as they say,” he noted aloud, leaning into his peculiar admiration .  He let his hands snake down his yukata, gathering the robes from his feet as he approached the low chaise sofa in the sitting area . “Have a drink with me?”

“Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s blood chilled and he froze midstride. He managed to keep his features soft and his voice level as he turned to face Victor. “How do you know my name?”

“We…” Victor started to say something and seemed to think better of it. “I researched you before I came. I like to know what my… who I’m dealing with.”

Yuuri nodded. That made enough sense, but it unnerved him. Sleeping with a different man each night, he’d grown accustomed to. Having one pry into his background…

But Victor was still very handsome and very rich and he had a job to do.

He fell onto the sofa, all grace, poised limbs and billowing robes. “Will you come sit with me?” He let the fabric slip from his right shoulder. A bit early for the trick, but Victor was a bit more reserved than most.

Victor did join him, staring all the while as he took a seat and leaned forward over his knees, hands balled and tense.

“Victor,” Yuuri dipped in, massaging one hand over his folded fingers. The other tilted Victor's chin toward him. “You don’t have to worry when you’re with me.”

Victor’s heart rate sped up, Yuuri noted from the point where his pinky lingered over the man’s pulse. Always a good sign.

“You came here for a reason,” he breathed, one finger falling over Victor's cupid’s bow and trailing down his neck where the pale skin disappeared beneath his collar . “Let me take care of you.”

Victor grunted and Yuuri couldn’t help the triumphant grin from smoothing over his lips.  Perhaps he was touch starved, he thought, toying with the first button until it came loose. Trapped in a loveless marriage with a cold wife. How sad for someone so young and beautiful. He didn’t think he could ever neglect Victor if he was his.

“Yuuri listen,” Victor eased his hands away.

He bristled but assuaged. He could play a long game. “I’m sorry.”  He pulled away, snaking to the other end of the couch and gathering the robes up to reveal the smoothness of his thighs . “I couldn’t help myself. There’s something about you, Victor. You’re not like my other clients.”

It wasn’t a lie… but it was a dangerous thing to say to a man. The same phrase had led to many jealous customers and tragic obsessions in the brothel’s history. Minako wouldn’t like it. But she wouldn’t like losing Nikiforov’s business either.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” Victor leaned into him, eyes grave. “You have to promise you won’t freak out.”

Yuuri’s fingers grasped at the silk material of his robes, chills icing over his exposed skin.

_Calm down, Yuuri_ , he told himself. He’d seen everything after all. Of course a man so beautiful must have some vulgar kink. Yuuri wouldn’t shame him for it.

“Try me.” He tilted his head, hair falling over his shoulder.

“Look at your hands.”

Yuuri looked down, gaze tracing his slender fingers against the silver inlay of Sakura branches and blooms over blue fabric . He frowned. “What is it?”

Victor seized him by the wrist and he flinched back.

“Where’s your ring?” he demanded, eying the bare skin as though something would materialize there. “You had it at the coffee shop.”

Yuuri’s breath hardened and ballooned in his chest, each inhale a labor. He placed a hand over his heart to calm himself. An appointment hadn’t gone south this fast a while.

“I don’t wear a ring,” he said, as calm as he could manage. The words felt wrong on his tongue. Didn’t he wear a ring? He shook his head. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”

Victor sighed. “Fine. I’ll show you mine.”

Yuuri raised an eyebrow as he searched the front pocket of his suit, eyes growing more and more concerned as he rummaged . “Where is it?”

_Nikiforov dropped a ring_. He guessed Minako hadn’t given it back. It was Yuuri’s job to make him forget. He’d messed up…

Regardless, he reached out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you’re looking for your wedding ring,  I think Minako found a band earlier. I’m sure she’ll hold it for you until-”

“We have to find it,” Victor cut in, yanking Yuuri from the lounger, wine glasses and a ceramic ashtray toppling to the tatami floors .

“Victor…” Yuuri tried, using his weight to pull back, but it didn’t matter.  His robes betrayed him, slippery and giving little friction over the mats as Victor  practically dragged him toward the exit . “VICTOR!”

Victor paused before the door, turning back with exasperated features. “You’ll understand once you see-”

Yuuri let the robes fall at his feet, long black tresses his only cover now, hair wild and messy over his eyes.

Victor released his wrist as though it singed him, but Yuuri only moved in closer. He had to win, he realized. It was bigger than the money. Bigger than his pride or his loyalty to Minako. He had no idea what possessed him, but he could not let this man return home to his wife.

“You don’t want me?”

Victor made some noise between a grunt and a choke and Yuuri’s eyes glittered triumphant. He sauntered forward in a sort of dance, so subtle in its rhythm that Victor wouldn’t even realize he was doing it. His prey ceased to move, conflicted eyes fixed on him.  He winced when Yuuri’s arms slithered up his chest and around his neck, fingers roving through silver strands .

Victor made another cute noise, his vocabulary disintegrating as he tried to turn toward the door .

“Look at me,” Yuuri corrected and he complied immediately. He rewarded him with the slow drag of his tongue against his ear.

“I can love you better,” he whispered. “Stop torturing yourself.”

“Yuuri,” Victor groaned and Yuuri felt his eyes water.  After so many nights of ‘Eros’, he never realized how amazing it felt to have his own name, sweet and deep, whispered across his skin for once . Victor was a trailblazer.

“Victor,” he matched, fingers already working at the suit jacket, easing it over broad shoulders to join the robes at their feet .  He smoothed his hands over the hard muscles outlined beneath Victor’s dress shirt and started on his belt . “You’re beautiful.” 

He started to drop to his knees when Victor dipped down to take him by the legs, hoisting him up and carrying him across the room back to the sofa .  Yuuri yelped as his back pressed against the crimson fabric, but Victor gave him no room to escape, straddling him down to press a hungry kiss against his mouth .  He didn’t let up, fingers buried in his dark hair, lips sucking a trail of pink from his neck to his chest to his belly button and…

“Victor?” Yuuri’s voice sounded breathless on his own ears. He looked down to see Victor nuzzled against his thigh. “A—Are you sure?” Most clients were  perfectly happy to sleep with a courtesan but balked at the idea of ‘blowing a whore’.

Steely blue gazed back at him from the crevice of his legs and he forgot how to inhale.

Uncertainty flickered there for a moment and then Victor dove in, enclosing Yuuri in the warmth and wetness of his mouth .

“Victor!”

The door slammed open. “NIKIFOROV!”

The noise clanged and jarred, a chorus of bad notes at the crescendo of a symphony.

Minako hovered over them with scathing eyes, Yuuri still trembling, his cock in Victor’s mouth.

“M—Minako-sensei?!”

Victor pulled away, looking very much ashamed with himself and Yuuri knocked at the chaise arm with his fist . Back to square one.

“Why do they match?!” Minako held one hand high, something hiding in the folds. “I saw the snowflake imprint inside!”

“The rings!” Victor stood and made a dash for the object before Yuuri could get a good look. He managed to swipe it away  just before brothel security rushed the room. Yuri Plisetsky, the taller guard, seized him by one arm, Otabek Atlin taking the other. Victor stared mad eyed at the towering blond. “Yurio?!”

Yuri’s lips curled into a sneer. “What the fuck is a Yurio?”

“Yuri. Otabek,” Minako started. “Take him and his rings outside and make sure he doesn’t come back.”

“Yuuri!” Victor cried, attempting to shoulder the two men away. Something in Yuuri's heart ached, lodged too deep to reach. Otabek kneed the back of Victor’s legs and he crumpled to the ground with a curse.

“Victor!” Yuuri started forward, but Minako blocked him.

“How long has this been going on?” she asked. “When did you have the chance to meet?! Were you planning on sneaking out tonight?”

He backed away, feeling small under her gaze. What could have made her this angry? “I never… I don’t-”

“How could you betray me like this?!”

“Yuuri!” Victor cried over Minako’s accusations and the loud ringing in his ears. “Look!”

Yuuri’s gaze traveled overhead to Victor’s hand where two tiny objects pressed between his fingers, the lantern light catching . Yuuri seized as enlightenment washed over him, a chill raising hairs from his neck to his ankles. His heart gave a sharp thud and he remembered.

“Victor!” He threw himself from the chaise, making a mad dash toward the door where the three men struggled.  Yuri, older now, tall and lean with a long, blond mane stretched back in a ponytail, raised his arm, punting him to the ground .

“And stay down,” Yuri warned. “Or I’ll give your dirty old boyfriend something to cry about.”

“Easy on the merchandise,” Otabek told him as he fixed Victor in a headlock. “Help me with him.”

Minako’s hands dug into his shoulders before he could stand again. “You still have some explaining to do.”

Yuuri caught one last glimpse of Victor’s panicked blue gaze as the panels slid shut.

* * *

The clear, black sky glittered with stars overhead. Yuuri wondered if one of them was home.  In his current universe, he sat in the onsen with Phichit, Guang Hong, and Seung-gil- all fellow courtesans under Minako’s tutelage . An Asian Fusion Brothel. He grimaced, hands wringing about the soaked hair at his chest. What sick god had thought this reality up?

“So you  really tried to run away with Nikiforov?”

“No!” Well, yes. But not  really . His fingers massaged at his temples. This was so confusing. He’d decided that trying to escape and finding Victor was out of the question.  Minako blocked every entrance, including his chambers, the halls, the front entrance and the grounds . She told him “for your own safety”, though he suspected it was as much to keep him in as it was to keep Victor out. He—or rather Asian Fusion Brothel him- chose this life and yet he’d never felt more like a prisoner.

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you,” Guang Hong a.k.a The Inferno sighed from across the water. “He’s gorgeous Yuuri! I wish a man like that would come and whisk me away!”

Seung-gil, better known as Almavivo, eyed them all as though they mocked his very presence with their stupidity . “Men like that are shit. All he wants is a whore and he won’t hesitate to leave you for a new one once you become the boring ‘wife’.”

Guang Hong looked as though the words had solidified and slapped him across the face. “That’s so jaded!”

“Victor’s not like that,” Yuuri said before he could help himself. Why was he bothering to argue? He didn’t know what Asian Fusion Brothel Hopping Businessman Victor was like.  He eyed the layout of the onsen, from the bright green camphor trees to the rock formations lining the ponds- all contoured with towering iron gates . He gulped. How was he going to get out of here?! A memory answered him and he snapped around to face Phichit.

“You were with Giacometti tonight, right?”

“Yep!” Phichit gave a deep sigh as he leaned back against the rock, shooting Yuuri a sultry look from the corner of his eye. “Sorry to say, Yuuri, but  I think I’m his new favorite.”

Flashbacks of sex with Chris invaded his mind and he gasped, cupping his face in his hands. The worst thing was that it had been  just as amazing as he suspected. This was too weird! He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Yuuri?” Phichit frowned. “You’re not going to try to run off with him too?”

“N—No!” Yuuri waved his arms with abandon. “I  just …” How could he phrase this?

“Oh, I get it,” Phichit’s voice lowered to a whisper as he swam closer, the warm water swaying  gently . “You want to check in on Victor!”

Yuuri’s eyes lit up and Phichit nodded.

“I’ll help you out.” He shot a wary glance at Almavivo. “Seung-gil has a point but any guy willing to suck a whore’s dick has to be pretty far gone for you, right?”

Yuuri’s fingers twirled  madly around his hair, cheeks flaming. “Right…”

“ I think Christophe is still hanging around the bar…” Phichit’s brow furrowed. “But don’t you have to see Leroy first?”

Yuuri’s growing joy hardened to cement. “What?”

“You know!” Phichit frowned. “Your next client.”

Oh no…

As though the very conversation summoned him, Minami, a courtesan in training, stepped out from the main building . “Eros!” he stammered. “Master Leroy has arrived at the estate! Minako-san asked me to find you!”

Yuuri sank nose deep into the water, but eyes already pierced him with suspicion from every direction . He finally rose like a man with a target on his back and took short robotic steps toward the translucent doors.

“Do you want me to carry your towel, Eros?!” Minami asked with far too much enthusiasm, face burning with more than the steam from the onsen.

“No,” he sobbed.  “No,” he tried again as they passed from the onsen area and back into the main house with its festive lanterns, spicy scent and the sounds of debauchery on the air . “Where’s Minako?”

“In your room!” Minami chirped. “Eros, I heard that fancy billionaire proposed to you! I mean, it’s you! Of course he would! I can only imagine one day being as graceful and gorgeous and AMAZING as you are to have…” Minami blinked. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri already sprinted halfway down the hall, ignoring Minami’s calls. He skidded to a stop before his chambers and flung the panel open to find Minako staring back at him.

“Minako-sensei!”

“Who let you roam the halls on your own? I told Minami to stay by your side.” She crossed her arms, eyes peering holes into his skull.

“Don’t blame Minami,” he gave a nervous laugh. “I-"

“Come on!”  Minako seized him roughly by the arm and dragged him into the room, shoving him upon his vanity stool and going to work . “Leroy isn’t a very patient man. Kind of an egomaniac if you ask me, but you’ve dealt with the type before.”

“Minako...”

“And this one won’t be plying you with any wedding rings. He has a very high profile marriage to Isabella Yang. Her family is wealthier than him and they’ll have his head on a skewer for bringing home a courtesan…”

“Minako.”

“Do you think Leroy is a lipstick kind of guy?” She pondered over a container of deep red powder, flipping the brush over and over in her hand. “I can never tell-”

“MINAKO!” he forced, biting back the ensuing guilt. “I need a break.”

She ceased to rotate the brush, eyes leaving the red paint to slow blink at him. “What?”

Yuuri’s own breath felt like it would choke him. He squeezed at his fingers and knuckles until they cracked. “It’s time for a change of scenery?” he whimpered.

She observed him for a time, head tilted, as though he would give up the act and admit to joking. It hurt more than the accusations and yelling. She finally nodded.

“You become the most popular courtesan in this house and now you’re going to abandon us for a cock and pretty eyes?” Her fingers began to tremble where they pressed into his arms. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

He bit his lip, eyes sinking to the floor. “It’s not  just that-”

“I hate to bring this up,” Minako started, the cool tone she reserved for difficult clients surfacing . “But you signed a contract, Yuuri. Eight years. You’re on year five.”

The air in the room seemed hot and scarce. “So…”

“So do your job,” she spat, flinging the brush upon the vanity and letting the red rouge clatter down after it. She reached into a basket against the wall and flung a yukata at him, black with gold inlay. “Put this on.” She started back toward the door, heels clapping over the matted floors, her brow and lip set in a harsh wrinkle.

Numbness crawled over Yuuri. He gaped at the robes draped over his arms as though he’d forgotten how to dress himself. Should he push past her? If he left now, he could still find Chris… And why did he feel so damn guilty? The real Minako would never force him to have sex with JJ… He stood, summoning all that was hard and unmoving in him.

“Yuuri…” Minako sighed, turning back with defeated eyes. “After tonight, I’ll consider ending the contract.”

His determination extinguished to embers. “Um…”

“But you’ll stick around for your last client, right?”  She gave him a sad smile and memories never lived of etiquette training, damp shoulders and laughter filled tea times flooded his mind .

“Of course,” he breathed without thinking.

She nodded and he began prying at the silk yukata material with cold fingers, pulling it over his shoulders with the utmost obedience . What was he doing? What was he doing?!

“I’ve stationed Yuri and Otabek outside. For your protection of course.”

“Great,” he nodded, gaze roaming the crimson-colored walls and panels. Where were the windows in this room?

A sharp knock came at the door.

“Are you ready for me?” A deep voice called.

“ Just a minute!” Minako sang.

Yuuri’s nerves pulsed out of his skin with the desire to bolt toward the back of his suite and dive under a cot. Instead, he let Minako’s frantic fingers work over his long dark hair, brush in hand, tending to every stray.

“There’s my Yuuri.” She traced the edge of his jawline, happy with her work. “You always look so beautiful.”

Yuuri forced the corners of his lips up. If he fell to the floor and started convulsing, would she buy it?

The paneled door swung open and JJ hovered in the threshold, hands fixed on the hips of his fitted suit.  He appeared older than the JJ Yuuri knew-older than Yuuri even- his form more filled out and the odd wrinkle framing sure blue eyes .

“Master Leroy,” Minako bristled at the interruption, accusing eyes falling on Yuri Plisetsky’s angry red features . 

“I tried to stop him!” Yuri said. “There’s no reasoning with this idiot!”

JJ chuckled as though Yuri were a small child wagging his tongue at him. “Even your guards are adorable kittens here, Minako. I’m surprised he doesn’t take clients as well!”

A low grumble started in Yuri’s throat and Minako seized the opportunity to use herself as a barrier, spinning him around and charging him back into the hall .

“Yuuri will see to it that you’re well taken care of!” She smirked over her shoulder and Yuuri’s shoulders deflated. “Have a riveting night!”

With that, the panel door slid shut once again, leaving them in silence. It didn’t last long.

“Well…” JJ surveyed him and he couldn’t help but squirm under the inspection. “You are a sight to behold, aren’t you?”

Yuuri couldn’t have managed a smile if he’d been staring down the barrel of a gun, lips tight, breathing uneven. JJ advanced toward him with a histrionic swagger and Yuuri maneuvered to the left.

“I’ll grab some refreshments,” Yuuri muttered, speed walking for the door. “I’ll be right back!”

“Darling,” JJ caught him by the wrist and reeled him in. “Don’t be coy. I understand exactly what’s bothering you.”

Yuuri’s breath caught. “You do?”

“You’re nervous!” JJ said with so much certainty that Yuuri almost believed it himself. “You’ve never had a client as good looking as me! Most courtesans marvel at how attractive and well versed I am! Don’t let it intimidate you, little one.”

Yuuri felt a strange blend of urges to laugh, cry or vomit. “That’s why I’m grabbing the drink!” He smiled instead, leaning into the first urge. “Because I’m nervous!”

“Baby, you won’t need a drink,” JJ hooked a finger through his own tie, loosening it from his neck in a fluid motion. “Once you see what I have to offer.”

Yuuri blinked, dumbfounded, as JJ began an impromptu striptease. Who was the courtesan here? “You should stop.”

“Getting too hot for you?” JJ gyrated his hips, fingers  slowly undoing each button of his blazer.

Yuuri frowned. Timid though he could be, he maintained resolve about a few things.  One of them being that he was most definitely not going to let JJ have his way with him in a multidimensional whorehouse . “Let go.” He twisted his arm away. “I'm not—”

A metal tray crashed atop JJ’s head and he crumpled to the ground, shirt half done.

His assailant laughed and tapped the tray at his hip. “That felt better than I thought it would.”

“Victor!” Yuuri threw his arms around him, squeezing so tight they both struggled for breath.

“Yuuri…” Victor planted a kiss against his temple and cradled his right hand in his. The familiar cold metal slid back into place and, for the first time in this universe, Yuuri felt whole.

JJ groaned at their feet and Victor rapped him over the head with the tray again.

“Stop it.” Yuuri pulled back, heading for the door. “Let’s  just get out of here.”

Victor pouted. “Yuuuuri, he’s not even real…” He waved the tray over a moaning JJ’s head.

“He might be,” Yuuri frowned. He still hadn’t figured out this interdimensional travel thing yet. “ Just because you hate the real JJ-”

“I told you, I don’t hate him.” Victor sighed. “I  just don’t like a single thing about him.”

“Same thing.”  Yuuri peered through the narrow cracks in the panels to see Yuri and Otabek exactly where Minako left them . Dammit… He turned to face Victor. “How’d you get in?”

“Mon trésor,” a voice called from the chaise sofa and Yuuri flinched when he saw Chris perched there. “This sofa brings back sweet memories.”

Yuuri flushed to his ears.

“Chris,” Victor gave that  sickeningly sweet laugh that Yuuri once mistook as genuine. “Yuuri and I  are married in our universe, remember?”

Chris pouted. “I do. What a waste.”

Yuuri’s jaw dropped. “You told him?!”

“I had to. That’s why he helped me sneak back in!”

“And he believed you?!”

“Of course he did,” Victor said as though arguing the skies blueness. “Chris is very openminded.”

“I’ve heard stranger things,” Chris checked his nails.

“HELP!” JJ called from the front of the chamber. “I’VE BEEN SET UPON BY RUFFIANS!”

Victor cursed, eyes narrowing at Yuuri. “You should have let me hit him again.”

“Where’d you sneak in at?” Yuuri asked, heart hammering.

“Through the door before you and Minako,” Victor shot a look at Chris. “I would have come out sooner, but Chris wanted to see JJ’s striptease.”

“You could have let him finish, mon cher.” Chris gave a woeful sigh.

JJ cried out for help again and Yuuri turned to the door expecting Yuri and Otabek to burst through at any moment. He scanned the room from the lanterns to the vanity and back to the door. His eyes lit up when he caught sight of their salvation.

“Come on,” he grabbed Victor by the hand and dragged him forward, motioning for Chris to follow.

By the time they’d all crouched to the side of the towering oak wardrobe, the panel door opened, Otabek and Yuri storming through, batons raised .

“Oh, thank goodness!” JJ sobbed. “Can’t you see I’m injured?!”

“NOW!” Yuuri called, racing out from around the wardrobe and into the hall, Chris fast on his heels. Victor, instead, snatched a flaming lantern from overhead and tossed it at Yuri and Otabek.

“Victor!”  Yuuri cried as the flame immediately caught on the tatami mats, Yuri and Otabek scrambling out of its path . JJ rolled out of the door, despite his injuries, and sprinted down the hall. “What are you doing?!”

Victor gave him an incredulous look. “You said ‘now’!”

“I meant ‘run’! Not attack!”  He watched as the fire consumed his suite, creeping toward the vanity and a deep aching tunneled through his chest .

“You two better run, “Chris advised. “I have a car out front.”

Yuuri only blinked as his world burned, feet rooted in place. He felt Victor's grip at his arm and his voice in his ear, pulling him away from the flame and down the halls. The air rippled, thick and electric.

“WHO’S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?!” He heard Minako screeching, but the cadence of her voice came strange and warbled.

“It’s happening again.” He squeezed Victor’s hand, waiting for the onslaught when something occurred to him. “Hey Victor!”  he cried over the screaming atmosphere, his silk robes whipping like branches in a hurricane . “Next time…”

Victor nodded, pulling him close.

“Don’t try to have sex with me!” he blared into his face.

“Have you seen you?!” Victor cradled his cheeks, staring at him as though trying to take a visual picture.  “You make a beautiful whore, Yuuri,” he breathed so  ardently against his ear that Yuuri  barely caught the teasing in his words .

“Courtesan,” Yuuri corrected, cheeks flushing as the world shredded and shrank in to consume them . “And at least wait til I’m myself again before you try to…!”

“Fuck me!” Yuuri’s eyes ballooned and he drew in a deep gust of stale air. Who’d said that? He gaped around the dead silent classroom and it stared back, dozens of shocked eyes narrowing in on him.

“Yuuri?!”  Mila, redheaded bombshell and cheerleading captain snorted into her hot pink nails from the desk to his right .

“Whoa Yuuri.” He looked to the desk on his left to find his best friend Phichit grinning, smartphone out.

An angry clearing of the throat came from the front of the class and Yuuri snapped around to find Mr. Plisetsky, History teacher and  possibly the most bitter human to ever walk the halls of Anders Nygren High, giving him his undivided attention .  With no where to run, Yuuri buried his head in his history notes, half-hearted scrawls about Greek culture and the fall of Troy .  He'd scribbled a little heart with a tiny ‘Y’ and an enthusiastic ‘V’ in the margins and he  promptly blacked it out before anyone could see .

“Is there something you want to share with the class…”

He couldn’t afford another one of Plisetsky’s detentions. Coach would kill him… “I… er…” But how could he explain?! He didn’t even remember saying it!

“… Katsudon?” his teacher taunted.

He'd never give another awkward interview about how he rewarded himself after a Basketball game again .  He’d only agreed because the head of the school newspaper happened to be best friends with the most beautiful boy in the world .

“Mr. Plisetsky!”

Speak of an angel.

“I'm sure Yuuri was referring to Fogme- historian and philosopher of the nineteenth century . He wrote an article pertaining directly to Kantian ethics and Greek prosperity in which he clearly refutes the use of the Trojan Horse due to categorical imperative... Right Yuuri?”

“R- Right!” Yuuri nodded.

“You’re familiar, yes, Mr. Plisetsky?” the angel asked.

Their teacher cleared his throat and brushed his hair back from his eyes. “Of course!” he grumbled still glaring at Yuuri. “Consider yourself lucky your classmate is a pretentious prat, Katsudon.”

Said pretentious prat beamed star bright. “Thanks, Mr. Plisetsky. I’ll be sure to tell my father you spoke so  highly of me!”  Following the ensuing silence from their teacher, he turned to give Yuuri a wink through long silvery bangs .

Yuuri gawked, too smitten to respond.

Victor Nikiforov- Senior Class President, Debate Team Captain, Drama Club star and undisputed, undefeated champion four years running for Biggest Crush of Yuuri Katsuki’s life- had  just saved him .

He started to stammer his gratitude when he saw it.  Settled in Victor’s satchel against a colorful notebook with a sunset scape and a tattered copy of Gone with the Wind, lay a tiny golden band . A familiar sensation surged through him and the classroom took on a nightmare’s edge.  Only this wasn’t a nightmare and Yuuri knew if they didn’t find a way out fast, they might be stuck in a universe where Yuri Plisetsky decided whether they graduated or not .

A few seconds passed before he realized that Victor still smiled at him— sparkling eyed, Rapunzel haired, 17-year-old Victor Nikiforov . His mouth fell open in stunned silence.

The bell rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This took forever to edit so I hope I got it right. Please let me know what you liked about it (or didn't like. I am open to constructive crit!) Next chapter is from baby V's POV.


	4. Teenage Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor pouted. “I know you like me like this. I saw the posters.”
> 
> Yuuri’s cheeks went red. “I had posters of you at every age!” 
> 
> “My hair is thinning…” he sighed, running his fingers through his lengthy strands, relishing in the fullness.
> 
> “I like your hair the way it is.” Yuuri’s finger pressed at that familiar spot in the center of his head and traced forward to where his receding hairline should have been. “Well, was.” He sighed. “You’re too handsome at 29 to be this insecure, Victor.”
> 
> He flinched at the very number. "Are you saying I’m not handsome right now?”
> 
> “No! You just…” Yuuri gestured to him, grasping for the right words. “... filled out later.”
> 
> “So you’re calling me fat.”
> 
> “VICTOR!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry to all who waited. My computer went on the fritz and it was in repair for almost a month. Then I had to complete a month-long project that took at least 6 - 8 hours almost EVERYday for a month... But now both of those things are done and I can focus more on this again! YAY!

“He didn’t say anything to me after class,” Victor tossed his head back, glossy silver hair cascading down the small of his back. “Not even a thank you!” He didn’t do that type of bullshitting for just anyone... He turned to his best friend and gestured to his cream-colored cashmere turtleneck, a swooping gold poodle chain dangling at the chest, a shoulder bag in the crook of his arm— Coach of course. “Do I look okay?”

“You know you look good, Victor.” Chris resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but Victor could hear the temptation.

"But do I look good good?" Victor frowned down at his turtle neck. He knew he should have shown more skin today. He eyed Chris's deep V neck, burgeoning hairs peering out at the dip. "Switch me shirts."

“Yuuri is just shy.” Chris grimaced. “Too shy." He tilted his head. "He’s not your average victim.”

"Victim?" Victor feigned coyness and Chris did roll his eyes this time.

Victor wasn't the ideal boyfriend. But could it be helped? He was young, busy, and very bored- especially of the image-obsessed egomaniacs he’d been entertaining for the past four years. And they’d all once seemed so promising…

“Did you even know his name before last week?” Chris frowned. “Pretty sure I remember you calling him a little piggy sophomore year.”

“I was shallow then," Victor pouted. "And he was a freshman."

“You hadn’t seen him naked then,” Chris corrected.

The ghost of Yuuri’s laughter breezed over his neck, warm eyes fixing him to the spot on the sofa.

“It didn’t get that far.”

“You’re still shallow, Victor.” Chris snorted. “You need someone more… shiny.”

“Right...” Victor made a face. 'Shiny' boys were often over-confident, over-controlling and- eventually- underwhelming. Yuuri never sang his praises— he was no Leo De Iglesia or Jean-Jacques Leroy. But he walked onto the basketball court and dominated all the same.

“I have it on good authority he likes Yuuko anyway.” Chris stopped before their lockers, fiddling in his backpack for the key. “They’ve known each other since they were kids. He might not even be into guys.”

“He's into me.” Victor tossed his hair back with a smirk, back pressing against the lockers.

“He was drunk at Sara’s party,” Chris said, pulling his locker open. “He led a teepee on Mr. Plisetsky’s house that night too.”

“Yeah…” Victor grinned at the memory and melted against the lockers with a sigh.

Chris raised an eyebrow, eying him like he’d sprouted a third ear. “It’s not like you to get this hung up over someone.” He gathered his camera and Journalism Club ledger to his chest before closing the locker. “Look, I promise you behind the cute face and the muscles, he’s just another dumb jock.”

“Victor!” Said dumb jock sprinted up to them, cute face earnest, muscles straining under the black and red sports jersey. “I need to talk to you!”

“Look who it is,” Chris spoke through a sharp, plastered smile. “Hey Yuuri! When am I gonna get you back on my newscast?”

Yuuri’s features wrinkled up, his eyes falling to the vinyl tiles. “Um…” He reached back to scratch his head.

Victor couldn't help but laugh into his fist. 'Shiny' boys often made empty promises through deceitful masks. Yuuri’s always told on him— the quiver in his brow or the quirk of his lips. The chaos of emotions swirling and undulating in the umber of his eyes. The poor thing couldn't tell a proper lie if his life depended on it. It was refreshing.

“Don’t mind Chris” He leaned in, letting his bangs sweep over his eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”

Yuuri flushed before leveling intense brown eyes on him. Victor’s heartbeat stuttered. “I need to show you-”

“YUURI!”

A hand caught Yuuri by the shoulder and Victor couldn’t help the irritation from wrinkling his lip. He didn’t run in the same circle as Yuuri—mostly because that circle amounted to a single dot. But he knew Phichit- a notorious circle hopper, Yuuri’s best friend, and the biggest gossip in the entire student body. He was always tipping Chris off on the latest story.

“Phiphi!” Chris sang. “Got anything good for me?”

“Check my Snap!” Phichit winked and Chris’s expression soured.

“You went to Snapchat first? I’m hurt.”

Phichit's laughter bubbled out jovial and easy. “I’ll make it up to you soon, but right now Yuuri and I have to get to practice!” He turned to his bestie. “You said you’d be right behind me! You know how Coach Yakov gets!”

“Coach Yakov?” Yuuri winced.

“I’ll walk you to practice!” Victor raised his hand. Yuuri hadn’t deliberately sought out his attention since the party. Victor had started to think that he regretted it once he sobered up. It wasn't that hard to believe.

Depending on who you talked to, he was one of two things. He could be Victor Nikiforov- number one student, prodigious talent and kind-hearted upperclassman with an angel’s smile and a perfect record.

Another, perhaps more accurate, crowd would tell you he was Victor Nikiforov, heart breaker, mess maker, ruthless competitor with a heart buried in ice who may or may not have called a chubby 14-year-old Yuuri a piggy behind his back once when he was 15.

He didn’t think Yuuko ever liked him much… A twinge of jealousy struck him and he laced his fingers with Yuuri’s. On the off chance that Yuuri wanted anything to do with him, he wasn’t going to give him a chance to lose his nerve again.

“Come on, Yuuri!” Without waiting for a response, he folded their arms together and fell into pace alongside him and Phichit.

“Don’t you have drama practice to get to?” Chris called from his locker. “I think they’ll notice the lead is missing!”

“It’ll give you something to vlog about,” Victor winked over his shoulder before turning back to Yuuri.

“So what did you wanna talk about?” 

Yuuri swallowed hard. “It can wait til we’re alone.”

A jolt of excitement passed through Victor. Yuuri was a romantic.

 _Or he wants to tell you the whole thing was a drunken mistake without embarrassing you in front of Phichit_ , his ever-growing bitter side suggested. He pushed it down.

“Does it have anything to do with what you said in class earlier?” He teased.

More flushing. “Actually…”

Yuuri’s attention seemed more focused on Phichit who watched them with a knowing glint in his eye.

“So you dating anyone, Victor?” Phichit asked and Yuuri's cute features warped into the most murderous expression Victor had ever seen on them.

“Not at the moment!” Victor hoped the hustle of the crowded after school hallways hid the desperation in his tone. “What about you, Yuuri?!”

“Uh… no…” His eyes darted at Victor before retreating fast. Victor couldn’t help his lips from turning up.

“Not even Yuuko?”

“No!” Yuuri shook his head so rapidly, the movement startled both Victor and Phichit. “I need to be alone with you!” His eyes burned into Victor’s, serious as death. “Now.”

Victor wanted to appear just as serious, but he could only focus on how Yuuri’s full lips pouted around the word 'Now' and the fingers pressing so deeply into his skin through the cashmere.

“Wow,” he breathed a dreamy sigh into Yuuri's solemn expression.

“KATSUKI!” The harsh, guttural tones of Coach Yakov Feltsman massacred the moment. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE AT PRACTICE THIRTY MINUTES AGO!”

“C—Coach Feltsman!” Yuuri’s intensity dropped to zero. “I’ll be there! I just have to…” He seized Victor by the wrist. “Go to the bathroom first!”

“Whoa.” Phichit snorted. “Thirsty much, Yuuri?”

“AND WHY ARE YOU FILMING?!” Yakov scowled straight into Phichit’s smartphone camera. “I TOLD YOU TO GO GET HIM!”

“Eh…” Phichit lowered the camera, nervous laughter bubbling from his throat.

Yakov finally turned to the last in the group and Victor maintained his grin, standing tall as ever.

“Vitya.”

Yakov lived next door all his life. He and his wife Lilia used to watch him when his father left town— which was often—and even let him use their garage for cello practice when his father said he was too noisy.

“Are you finally considering joining the team?” he asked for the thousandth time. “We could use your height.”

“No!” Victor sang. “I’m here to watch Yuuri!”

Yakov grumbled something about ‘distractions’ under his breath as he led a withering Yuuri by the backs of his shoulders toward the gym. Victor could already make out the screeching against lacquered floors, rubber hitting hard on the wood and the crude taunts of rowdy boys.

Victor promised to ‘stay out of the way and don’t make trouble or no using my garage for a month’ and Yuuri approached the basketball court, shoulders shrugged in like an armadillo willing itself to disappear. Victor frowned from the bleachers. He’d never seen Yuuri like this before. He wound himself up often before a game, brow set, his limbs too tense, but never this. Never defeated.

“WOOOOO!” he cheered from the stands. “YUURI!”

Yakov leered back at him and he figured he’d just made cello practice more difficult than it had to be for a month.

Yuuri looked up, a weak- albeit appreciative- smile on his lips. Worth it.

It became obvious right away why Yuuri had been so reluctant to play. Something was wrong. And, as sure as Yuuri would miss the next basket or flail helplessly when a frustrated teammate attempted to pass him the ball, Victor realized it too. Something _was_ wrong. A huge assignment he’d missed or a meeting he’d forgotten to attend. And it wasn’t Drama Club.

“KATSUKI!” Yakov finally bellowed after ten minutes of torture. “OUTSIDE NOW!”

Victor couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he trudged out into the hall behind Yakov, head bowed, his team staring after him.

Jean Jackass Leroy, basketball star and Victor’s most regretted hook up- gave a low whistle. “He’s so soft.”

The voice made Victor’s stomach ache as he made his way onto the court. _I was 15 and stupid. I was 15 and stupid. I was 15 and stupid._

“Not everyone can handle the pressures of being a number 1 pick in the district as well as I can…”

“But can they handle being the number 1 prick in the district as well as you can?” Victor smiled.

JJ blinked at him for a spell before the usual smugness crept back in. “You come to peep on us, Victor?” he asked, his goons sniggering behind him.

Victor’s smile razored. “Nothing I haven’t already seen.”

The smile toppled from JJ’s lips and his breathing went shallow. If Isabella Yang and the rest of his lackeys found out renowned Straight Guy and Good Christian Boy Leroy spent the summer before Sophmore year hooking up with Victor Nikiforov, what would they think?

“I hope Yuuri’s okay,” Leo frowned. “He gets nervous sometimes, but never like that…”

“Yeah,” Phichit sighed. “I knew Victor watching might trip him up, but not this bad.”

The words needled at him, a surprising assault from Phichit. “He’s used to people watching,” he smiled. “He’s probably just having a bad day or-”

“No, I mean you being the only one here watching him didn’t help,” Phichit looked down. “Usually you blend into the crowd so he can forget you’re here, but…”

Victor turned to him, a feral, frothy thing effervescing beneath his skin. “What?”

Phichit swallowed hard. “Don’t you know?”

The frothy thing bubbled up through his gut, into his chest and…

“He might be a little obsessed with you,” Phichit shrugged. “I mean, don’t tell him I said—hey wait!”

Victor’s legs already tore over the gym floors, squeaking up a cacophony. “Yuuri!” He flung himself through the heavy gym doors and burrowed into Yakov. The older man stammered in the middle of a tumultuous string of hard-edged syllables, all directed at a drooping Yuuri. Yakov turned his beady narrowed eyes on him.

“Do you ever want to use my garage again?!”

“Yuuri, me too,” Victor gushed.

Yuuri looked up from his anguish to blink at him. “What?”

“I like you too!” Victor blurted, adrenaline rushing too fast to stop now.

“Oh, for the love of God…” Yakov muttered.

Yuuri gave him a peculiar look and the bubbling in Victor’s chest slowed. ‘Obsessed’ didn’t necessarily mean anything. Plenty of people were ‘obsessed’ with his hair or his eyes or his ass…

Chris’s doubtful green eyes resurfaced. _Just another dumb jock…_

Yuuri reached forward through his thoughts to take him by the hand.

“Come on,” he said, not giving Victor’s mind a chance to catch up before dragging him down the hall, leaving an agitated Yakov in their wake.

He started to ask where they were going when Yuuri ducked into an empty classroom, tugging Victor in and closing the door behind them.

Victor took a step back as silence settled over the dusty old room. Stilted sunlight poured in through the window blinds to illuminate the swarms of particles floating on stagnant air.

“So what did you want to talk about?” Victor closed the space between them, hoisting himself up on one of the dust littered desks. Yuuri just blinked at him, mouth agape.

Victor smirked. “If you want to ask me out, it’s about time.”

“No! It’s not that!” Yuuri shook his head with too much objection and Victor nearly tipped from the desktop. “I uh… We…” He paused again, eyes running the length of Victor’s body, lips parted.

Oh. Something shuttered in Victor’s eyes. Right.

Another dumb jock.

He’d been so sweet at Sarah’s party. All slurred confessions about Victor being his 'biggest crush' and soft, eager kisses. Yuuri always seemed so genuine. Victor thought he would be different.

Yuuri looked up and gave a sharp exhale when their eyes met. A smile broke out over his lips.

“This is insane. I never thought I’d get a chance to meet you like this.”

“Meet me?” Victor frowned. Like this? Alone in an abandoned old classroom where no one else could see? Where no one else would know? Folded away like an old carpet stain.

Images emerged of his father’s distant eyes and JJ’s paranoid glances in the rearview mirror. Of the dozen times he’d been 'shiny' enough for a second, but too hollow for the long haul.

The bubbles thickened to tar in his gut, disappointment clinging to his insides. For a moment, tears threatened at the backs of his eyes. He drew in a deep, cool breath and the ice sank deep, into his heart and mind. He hadn’t cried for his father in years, hadn’t cried for JJ or the others. He sure as hell wasn’t crying for the little piggy.

“Victor.” Said piggy’s cadence wrapped around his name and rooted him to the spot. It had never sounded more important. Damn him. Yuuri started forward, dark hair falling over piercing eyes. “I need to show you something.”

It always happened like this. Victor wanted to walk away and slam the door behind him without a word, but he needed this now more than anything. Yuuri’s hollow confessions and ephemeral caresses. The illusions swirling deep in his brown eyes. It felt good, pretending. Even when it cut him to pieces later.

He should have listened to Chris. He was usually right. Some people just weren’t made for love.

Yuuri raised his hand to him and Victor seized it, yanking him forward into a kiss.

It wasn’t like the kiss at the party.

“What’s wrong?” Victor frowned at Yuuri’s tense form, skin flushed even though they’d barely started. “Isn’t this what you wanted?” He pulled him in again with bruising force and Yuuri kissed him back for all of three seconds before jamming his hands against his shoulders and forcing him back.

Victor stumbled into the row of desks behind him. “Wha…” A blend of shame and anger like nothing he'd ever known whipped within him and his features froze over, all his pretenses evaporated. “What the hell is your problem?!”

“Wake up!” Yuuri shoved his hand in his face and he looked – really looked- at the golden band gleaming on his ring finger. Realization settled over Victor as he gazed back at Yuuri, eyes narrowing.

“You’re MARRIED?!”

Was it cultural? He didn’t think it was a Japanese thing…

Yuuri’s expression twisted in horror. “Y- You don’t remember…”

“Remember what?” Victor laughed, mirthless and derisive. “That you’re literally married?” He tilted his head, the contempt brimming at the edges of his grin. “You never told me, piggy.”

Yuuri gave an exasperated sigh that felt too familiar as he dipped toward the floor.

“It’s Yuuko, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow as Yuuri seized his Coach bag up. “Hey, what are you doing?!”

“It’s in here somewhere!” Yuuri rummaged through the bag, tossing his notebooks and texts to the ground and Victor saw red.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” He snatched the leather strap up. “Give it back!”

“You’ll understand once you see it!” Yuuri engaged him in a spirited game of tug-o-war and neither of them realized a third party had joined the room until it was too late.

“Katsuki and Nikiforov.” The harsh, resentful tone of their history teacher floated on the air. “Can’t say I didn’t see this coming.”

“Yurio!” Yuuri dropped the bag and Victor stumbled backward without the resistance, tumbling onto his backside.

“Yurio?” Plisetsky grumbled. “Did you fall and hit your head during practice, Katsuki? I heard you screwed up more than usual today.”

Victor bristled. Yuuri was a dumb, lying jock, but his history teacher was still an asshole. “I’m sure you’d be amazing on the court, Mr. Plisetsky!”

It was a low blow. Yuri Plisestky had been a college basketball star before an injury took him out of the game for good. Victor suspected his hatred for Yuuri, a rising star of the same name, stemmed from some lingering resentment.

“You know what’s funny, Nikiforov?” Plisetsky turned his sneer on him. “I looked it up. There’s no philosopher named Fogme!”

Victor clapped his hands. “Amazing deduction, Mr. Plisetsky!” He smiled. “It only took you three hours.”

Yuuri’s mouth fell open and Plisetsky’s face puffed up like a ripe tomato.

“Detention! Both of you!”

“Why?” Victor frowned. “Because you’re embarrassed?”

“For messing around after school!

“We weren’t messing around!” Yuuri cried. “We were just… I was helping Victor…”

“Practice a scene!” Victor finished, reaching to dig in his bag. “The script is right…”

Victor looked down to see a golden band sliding along the edge of his playbook. He closed his eyes and the entire world scattered and reformed when he opened them.

“Shit.”

* * *

Yuuri leveled accusing eyes on him. “If you weren’t so mean as a kid, we wouldn’t have detention.”

Victor crossed his arms with a huff. “Well, you were being a pushover.”

He squirmed in his seat. "I just know how to pick my battles.”

“So do I.” Well, adult Victor did anyway. Most of the time.

“Victor…” Yuuri sighed, cradling his full cheeks in his hands. Victor’s shoulders softened. Teenage Yuuri was so adorable. “Are you still mad because you thought I was married to Yuuko?”

Victor shook his head, silver waves swaying. “Sorry. It’s too much to process… I went from arguing with my high school crush to being trapped in an alternate dimension.“ He leaned back in his seat, the dream of a simpler time still wearing off. “It was kind of nice…” The cold inky feeling hadn’t completely evaporated from his gut and he leaned over to press the line of his shoulder against Yuuri. “Lonely though.”

“How terrible for you,” Yuuri muttered as he braided and unbraided a lock of Victor’s hair, a nervous habit he’d indulged from the moment they’d arrived in the detention hall. He seemed eager to get his hands on it and Victor supposed he didn’t mind. “Did you see me in the gym? That was so embarrassing!”

He remembered Yuuri attempting to dribble the ball and chasing after it and concealed a snort. “It was cute.”

Yuuri turned wide eyes on him. “Was I really your crush?”

“Of course,” he teased. “Was I yours too or did you just want to bang me?”

“You know you were.” Yuuri tended quietly to his work, one tress of silver over the next, but the softness in his gaze betrayed him.

“Yuuri…” Victor cooed into his reddening expression. It was never this easy to make Yuuri blush anymore. “We should stay here.”

Yuuri’s fingers froze. “What?!”

“I was always alone when I was a kid.” His gaze fell to the glistening plastic desk. “Even when I wasn’t.” It remained difficult to talk about this with someone who wasn’t Makkachin. Someone who could think and judge him for not being perfect or grateful enough. A irrepressible smile spread over his lips. “But now I have you here.”

“Victor…” Yuuri's voice came out strained. “This isn’t a do-over... We have lives!”

“But we’re so young and cute.” Victor flipped his silver mane back and the braid flew from Yuuri's hands. "Look how thick my hair is!” He gave him the side-eye. “I know you’re thinking it too. You tried to make out with me.”

“You tried to make out with me!” Yuuri leaned in, eyes accusing. “It’s not like I tried to go down on you or anything.”

“You were a whore!”

AHEM!” Mrs. Okunawa peered out at them from behind her harlequin novel and they straightened up in their chairs.

“Sorry Mrs. Okukawa!” Victor beamed, his voice going low again as he faced Yuuri. “I know you like me like this. I saw the posters.”

Yuuri’s cheeks went red. “I had posters of you at every age!” 

“My hair is thinning…” he sighed, running his fingers through his lengthy strands, relishing in the fullness.

“I like your hair the way it is.” Yuuri’s finger pressed at that familiar spot in the center of his head and traced forward to where his receding hairline should have been. “Well, was.” He sighed. “You’re too handsome at 29 to be this insecure, Victor.”

He flinched at the very number. "Are you saying I’m not handsome right now?”

“No! You just…” Yuuri gestured to him, grasping for the right words. “... filled out later.”

“So you’re calling me fat.”

“VICTOR!” Baby Yuuri’s brows wrinkled, his lips sinking, and Victor could have exploded. Yuuri already resembled a baby piglet, but he was so adorable at 16 that he couldn’t imagine staying mad at him long enough to get his way. It was dangerous.

“Makkachin’s at home and she’s young too…Yakov and Lilia are still together… My knees aren’t bad…You don’t have to wear glasses…”

“I do,” Yuuri said. “I’m just self-conscious about it and I can’t play ball with them so I wear these itchy contacts.”

“And I’m not special in this universe,” Victor sighed. “I’m just an artsy overachiever and you’re the star of the Basketball team so maybe you’d stop matching us up and trust me.”

Yuuri stared at him for a while, the silver braid hanging limply in his hand. “You’re still mad.”

Victor stared ahead, resisting the urge to placate like he normally did with ‘I’m not’s and ‘I’m just tired’s and so many kisses.

“Victor…” The name hissed out tight and desperate. “I’m sorry. I'd take it back if I could.”

“I know.” Yuuri was always sorry. He was especially cute about it this time. “Let’s focus on getting out.”

As charming as this first love school fantasy had been, he didn’t really care to live under his distant father's demands or Yakov’s rule. He had no desire to sit for an hour each day in a self-aggrandizing Yuri Plisetsky’s classroom where it smelled like old gym socks and baloney. He and Yuuri couldn’t even skate in this universe! Besides, he didn't think he could stand to live in a world where he'd voluntarily hooked up with JJ. More than once.

“Should we leave the school?” Yuuri asked.

“No.” Victor crossed his arms and leaned back into the chair, head tilted in thought. He thought back to the coffee shop. “If we go too far, it’s going to forward us to another dimension.” He jammed a hand in his pocket and yanked out a smartphone sheathed in a Rocky Horror Picture case. “We have to try to contact the lab another way.”

He opened Google as Yuuri fidgeted at his hair, entering the lab’s information into the search box. He pressed the ‘Go’ button. Nothing came up.

He swallowed hard, feeling Yuuri's gaze on him.

“What’s wrong?”

He tried other search engines. Sister labs. High profile researchers’ names. Michel. Nothing.

“It’s…” He licked at dry lips. “It’s like it doesn’t exist anymore. Not in this reality.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“NO PHONES!” Minako barked from the front of the room. “Do you want detention tomorrow too?”

“No ma’am,” they chorused, tones defeated.

Yuuri leaned forward, his cheek pressed against the desk, brown eyes trembling. “How are we gonna get out of here?”

Victor slid the phone back into his pocket. It did make sense. How likely was an invention like Michel’s to exist in every reality? And if they weren’t skaters, he surely wouldn’t be a scientist. Still, just because the lab didn’t exist in this reality didn’t mean it wouldn’t in the next. They might lose their memories for a bit, but they always found one another… Eventually.

“To escape, we have to do something we wouldn’t usually do in this universe. Like when you quit the coffee house or I set fire to the brothel.”

Yuuri nodded. “Then…” His eyes went dark. “We should burn down the school.”

“God Yuuri…” Victor grimaced. “That’s morbid.”

“You’re the genius.” Yuuri leaned back to match his stance and poked at his itchy contacts. “What do you think we should do?”

A glimmer of clarity flickered through and a made grin stretched over his lips. Yuuri winced.

“You remember where the home ec room is?”

* * *

“This is going to get us expelled,” Yuuri said as he crouched at his post, ammunition in hand.

“That’s the point, Yuuri,” Victor held fast to his own bundle from across the threshold. “Weren’t you ready to commit arson thirty minutes ago?”

Movement started behind the closed door they knelt before, the sounds of a rolling chair screeching back from a desk and the rummaging of paper. Finally the flick of a light switch. The door swung open and Victor started to cry “NOW”, but Yuuri was already up, the carton of eggs held high over his head. He flung the entire thing at their target and it fell, unceremoniously, from the front of its coat before crumbling at its feet, a few eggs cracking around the leather shoes.

“Yuuri!” Victor scolded. “Not all at once!”

“What… the fuck?” Mr. Plisetsky’s fists clenched underneath his heavy coat. “Trying to get the spots you missed last weekend, Katsudon?!” he sneered before rounding on Victor. “And you-”

Victor opened a jet of whipped cream into his eyes. Before he could recover, Yuuri poured a gallon of milk down the rear of his coat.

“Victor!” Another voice came and they turned to see a much taller Minami Kenjiro approaching them in a black turtleneck and jeans, the trademark crimson still flaming through his hair. “You weren’t at drama practice! How are we supposed to put on Little Shop of Horrors without our Audrey?!”

“Sorry!” Yuuri winced before unleashing a stream of cheese wiz all over Minami’s pristine turtleneck.

“KATSUKI!” Minami wailed. ‘HOW COULD YOU?!”

They sprinted away leaving Minami whimpering about how 'Katsuki used to be such a good kid' and Yuri fast on their tails, expletives flying, eyes raging. Despite clear policy against student abuse, Victor couldn’t in good faith say that he wouldn’t murder them with his bare hands.

They continued down the dim hallways, egging the walls and drowning the floors in milk, olive oil and other wasted goods.

Chris stepped out from the newsroom, camera in hand. “What the hell?”

“Yuuri!” Phichit laughed from behind his smartphone. “Are you drunk?!”

They'd begun to amass a crowd when the hall began to tilt, fluorescent lights flickering. Victor dropped the food items and grabbed Yuuri by the waist, pulling him in close. Plisetsky’s hands finally caught the ends of his hair, Principal Celestino’s angry, but distorted features appearing before them. “GET TO MY OFFICE NOW OR I’M C…ling… the.. po-…”

The words glitched in and out and the world fell away to black.

* * *

Victor ran, the thick, green foliage blurring in a tunnel around him as he propelled forward, sticks and dead leaves crackling underfoot. He wore nothing but a fitted black tank top and thin sweatpants, but the material still clung to his skin, hot and damp with sweat. His legs began to ache. Why was he running again?

Without a purpose, his pace slowed, but the sound of crunching sticks and leaves remained up ahead. His eyes slit and narrowed in on the figure moving through the wood. His instincts flared and a slow smile snaked over his lips. He remembered now.

Using the new burst of adrenaline, he sprinted forward, more animal than human as the distance rapidly decreased between him and his prey. He’d been unfair to Georgi. He always thought this game to be primitive and outdated. Even a bit cruel. But now in the thick of it all, sweaty and charging through the brisk air, steadily gaining more and more ground on this delectable, terrified thing… Perhaps there was something to be said for giving in to one’s basest instincts.

He caught him, arms looping around his waist mid-run, his chest absorbing the force as his victim barreled backward into him. Victor held to him fast, studying the full, parted lips and the round brown eyes hidden under thick lashes, glasses askew.

He was delectable. And was he terrified. A cloying ache wormed into Victor’s chest and he remembered himself.

“It’s alright.” He eased the frames back into place so they balanced perfectly on his button nose. It was as though he were already his. “I won’t hurt you.”

The words did no good. His fingers still trembled and his breathing caught and stammered in his chest. He pressed his legs together to keep them from shaking. But, to Yuuri Katsuki’s credit, his voice came cool and clear.

“What are you doing?” he asked, attempting to twist away. Victor held fast to his arm. “I’m competing too.”

Victor smiled. “You’re an Alpha?”

Yuuri’s adam’s apple vanished and then appeared again. “Yes.”

Disappointment settled over Victor. Yuuri lied too easily. That would remedy itself in time.

“You’re Yuuri Katsuki, right?”

Yuuri fixed his gaze on Victor’s chest. A beta wouldn’t have noticed his breathing picking up. Victor did.

“I have a friend named Yuri. He’s competing too. He’s quite a lot more spirited than you are,” Victor laughed. “He asked me to grab a jacket from his locker before we headed out. I had some trouble opening it though.”

Yuuri blinked. “So?”

“Imagine my surprise when I found scent blockers there!” Victor explained, gesturing his surprise for good measure. “What would Yuri need those for?!”

The breathing came more obvious now- even a beta could tell.

“That’s when I realized I’d forced open the wrong locker,” Victor finished. “Yours, Yuuri,” he used the proper accent. “Your scent blockers.”

Yuuri stared at his forehead for a time before licking his lips. “Those aren’t mine.”

Victor leaned into him, head tilted. “You expect me to believe that?” He pressed his thumb over the rabbiting pulse at Yuuri’s wrist. “You realize blockers sweat out, right?” He lifted the wrist and pressed it to his nose. “I can smell you.”

Yuuri shook his head, his entire form trembling now. “That’s not… I’m-”

“Why won’t you look me in the eye?”

Yuuri continued to look just to the side of him. Another alpha wouldn’t be so concerned with meeting eyes and opening himself up to an alpha command. They only worked on omegas and betas.

“Listen…” Yuuri whispered, glistening eyes drooping to the forest floor, his entire form trembling.

Victor’s triumphant grin softened and he pressed an encouraging kiss into Yuuri’s wrist.

“The truth is…”

Victor could barely pull his lips away when an all-consuming pain crashed against his midsection and penetrated deep. He bent forward with a groan. Yuuri had kneed him in the balls.

The omega took off, wriggling out of his grip and abandoning him to suffer alone in the forest. The animalistic side of him roared up, vengeful, angry and desperate to claim. Patience, his logical side told it. Yuuri could only run for so long and The Hunt had only just begun. The pain subsided slowly but surely and he opened the palm that he’d held Yuuri with to find a golden band there. He recalled a vague snippet of a memory, dark and blurry at the edges. He waited for more pieces to illuminate and conjoin with this one because he felt that he should.

Half a minute passed and he decided he’d waited long enough. His fist closed over the mysterious band. Once he’d conquered its owner, he’d return it to him.

The animal growled inside him at the thought of his conquest.

“Shhh." he told it. "Soon enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos! I hope you're still enjoying it. I've already written the omegaverse chapter, but I feel like it will need massive edits because I was cringing the entire time I wrote it ^_^' Heheheh

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered what Victuuri's take on the 100s of AU tropes written about them would be. So I decided to finally explore it! I hope someone has fun with this...  
> Also if there is a specific AU trope you want to see them visit, let me know in the comments! I already have several in mind. Thank you for reading <3
> 
> (Previously Yuri!!! On Alternate Universe. Changed it because that was a placeholder name when I couldn't think of a better one and I think the new name represents the core of the story better)


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